They were a maelstrom of 3-year-old, fresh-off-the-playground joy. Kids tumbled past the door to the cardio center and jammed up the lobby with the effervescent energy that animates crowds of youngsters (and microwave popcorn). Little girls sported falling-down ponytails and dimples; little boys, mischeivous eyes and chubby bellies. One in particular stood out.

“Mommy!” he calls down the line of ellipticals to the woman next to me. We glance over (legs still pumping — the beauty of the automated workout). He is dark haired, small, jubilant … and soaked in sweat. I mean, dripping, curls plastered to his tiny, beaming face. Like just-climbed-out-the-pool wet, but it’s all internally manufactured.

“Ohhhh, Jake,” his mom moans, but I look at her looking at her and she’s grinning. “Why why why are you so wet?”

“He played hard today,” the daycare volunteer offered apologetically before dropping a towel on to the little boy’s head and drying him off like a rambunctious puppy. His dark eyes sparkled at his mother through the folds in the cloth and it’s easy to see he’s been up to no good since the day he popped out of the womb.

(Found via a free Stereogum summer mixtape, so you also get Chromeo, Blonde Redhead, “USA Boys,” and a weirdly melodic little ditty called “Hall” by Baths.)

And on the other end of the musical energy spectrum, Chris Garneau’s “Home Town Girls,” which might make you feel like sleeping or falling in love or something else that requires a slow-burn soundtrack. This is the only version I could find to post, but it’s surprisingly good quality for being some French girl’s cell phone footage.